<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Meeting The Family by stonecoldsilly</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28464537">Meeting The Family</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonecoldsilly/pseuds/stonecoldsilly'>stonecoldsilly</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, geralt is a tease</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:20:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,443</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28464537</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonecoldsilly/pseuds/stonecoldsilly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Geralt is finally taking Jaskier to Kaer Morhen...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>318</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Meeting The Family</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>for ThirstyOpossum, whom I adore...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>...</p><p> </p><p>At the bottom of the mountain, Geralt turns to him and eyes him up and down, golden eyes flaring hotly over his body and making him gasp, pink cheeked, at the force of his appraisal. </p><p>Geralt has seen him in all manner of dress and undress, but never before has he managed to make Jaskier feel so raw and exposed, trembling slightly with nerves.</p><p>Geralt mistakes it for cold, and he’d be half-right, autumn on the cusp of snapping into winter and sending brisk winds through the valleys.</p><p>Normally Jaskier would be ensconced in Oxenfurt by now, shielded from the chill by the city walls and several ready flagons of wine, but this year, of all years, Geralt had offered a brusque invitation, and he’d fallen over himself to accept before it could be rescinded.</p><p>Geralt’s eyes linger at his bare throat, his exposed wrists, even the slightly sorry looking state of his boots, then before Jaskier can utter a word, or worse, start stammering, he tugs at the frayed end of his cloak and reels him closer.</p><p>Jaskier shivers, betraying himself, but Geralt just hums slightly and then unclasps his own heavy winter cloak. </p><p>‘Geralt, I couldn’t-‘ He tries, but the Witcher just swings it around him in one swift motion, and then he can’t protest, he’s too busy basking in the sudden warmth. Geralt flips the hood over his head to boot, snickering when it flops over his face comically. Jaskier plays up to it, looking about dramatically as though the world has disappeared, happy to indulge any of Geralt’s whims when he’s in such a good mood.</p><p>Daylight appears again as Geralt pulls the hood back, still smiling, crooked and real, as he almost never lets himself when they’re in public.<br/>
He feels absurdly like a new bride as her veil is lifted, and is helpless to do anything but stare up at Geralt shyly. Jaskier’s heart leaps in his chest, and he curses it, knowing a Witcher’s hearing is more than capable of sensing it, but he feels wrong-footed and flushed, too uncertain to risk making the wrong move.</p><p>‘There you are.’ Geralt says, the echo of a smile still on his face, the dawn light catching his eyes and turning all the world to dazzling gold as Jaskier just stares, bizarrely speechless.</p><p>‘C’mon.’ Geralt says, and ushers him in the direction of the market, a warped mirror to how he used to push Jaskier around by the scruff of his doublet. He leads him through town, but none of the sights really sink in, not when he walks with Geralt’s arm a protective brand nestled around him, tucked in the Witcher’s own cloak, still too wide-eyed to dare opening his mouth and breaking the early morning hush that surrounds them.</p><p>He nods at several people politely as they pass, who look rather more used to the presence of a Witcher than in many other places across the Continent. Geralt stops them in front of a little cloth merchant’s shopfront, vibrant bolts of colour laid out on tables near the door to attract the eye. They duck inside, and Geralt exchanges a few brief words with the tailor manning the shop while Jaskier looks around at piles of furs and soft woollen blankets. She looks unsurprised to see a Witcher in her shop and doesn’t fuss, merely picking up her sewing once more.</p><p>Jaskier wanders around, careful not to let the edges of Geralt’s travel-worn cloak brush any of the new fabric, occasionally eyeing some of the finer material as inspiration for his own tailoring. He gets distracted by some rather marvellous filagree, and Geralt chooses exactly that moment to drop what feels like an entire bear over his head.</p><p>He squawks in surprise, and then Geralt’s hands arrange the fur around his head so he can breathe again, and he looks down to see a handsome grey-white pelt draped over his shoulders, with a trailing cloak of fine black wool, clearly new. He glances up at Geralt questioningly, who just hums and wanders off again.</p><p>With what seems to be a whole wolf-fur around him, he soon warms up in the warmth of the shop, but then Geralt reappears, brandishing a pair of black fur lined gloves. He stops in his tracks and looks, almost enquiringly at Jaskier, who just nods, baffled. He snatches Jaskier’s hand in his own quickly, and then aching gently, pulls first one glove, then the other, over his still cold fingers, rubbing them softly to warm them. </p><p>Jaskier just concentrates on breathing as steadily as he can, trying not to panic. </p><p>Geralt strides off once more, and Jaskier looks over helplessly at the shopkeeper, who has now dropped all pretence of carrying on with her needlework. She smooths her grin over as their eyes meet, and he is suddenly sweltering, covered in fur he daren’t take off before his Witcher returns.,</p><p>He waits as patiently as he can manage, gaze drawn to the fine stitching on the gloves, marvelling at how soft the fur feels on his skin, not letting his overdeveloped sense of romance pull his thoughts too far ahead of himself.</p><p>He settles slightly, catching a glimpse of himself in the tarnished glass on the wall, looking broader than Geralt does in full armour and reluctantly admiring how the dusky white collar looks against his skin.</p><p>Geralt stomps back into view, carrying a pair of long boots under his arm with an unmistakeably triumphant air.</p><p>He swoops down without a word, and lifts Jaskier before he has time to protest, heavy furs and all, and plops him down on the nearest table, pushing piles of clothing aside to clear room. </p><p>‘Geralt, what in Melitele’s name?’ He manages, and then Geralt, once the Butcher of Blaviken, dear Geralt is kneeling in front of him and tugging his worn boots off, one mighty paw gripping his ankle firmly and with such assurance that heat pools honey thick in his throat.<br/>
The whole shop, the rest of the world falls away as he stares down at the crown of Geralt’s head and bears down on the hot clench deep in his gut.</p><p>His toes curl, quite without his permission, as Geralt’s fingers stroke soothingly over his calves. Slowly, he slides the new boots onto his feet, drawing them up to his knees with care, tucking his trousers back in assiduously and tracing his finger over the gap at the toes, checking the fit. </p><p>Jaskier has no idea what in heaven’s name is going on, this quiet little shop taking on a dreamlike quality, where Witchers do perfectly mad things like kneel at his feet, and he looks about wildly for aid, desperate to hide the thickening of his cock in his trousers.</p><p>Geralt looks archly up at him through lowered lashes, and he can’t tear his gaze away, breathless at the spike of lust roaring through him, and then Geralt slides his hands up to the back of his knees and <em> pulls</em> him closer, effortlessly dragging him to perch on the very edge of the table, legs spread and feebly trying to conceal how his thighs are trembling.</p><p>It’s so hot, it’s too goddamned hot in this shop, wrapped in these furs, the air suddenly close and stuffy as Geralt hums over the boots once more, running his hands over what feels like every inch of Jaskier’s legs, looking for all the world as though he is merely inspecting the boots for holes instead of teasing him mercilessly. Just this alone shouldn’t be enough to send his head spinning, not with the years of experience under his belt, but this is <em>Geralt</em>, and he can only cling to the shreds of his composure and pretend valiantly that his cock isn’t dripping wetly in his breeches at a little light petting.</p><p>Geralt’s innocent expression cracks into outright mischief as he makes to stand up, placing a completely unnecessary hand on Jaskier’s thigh for balance, and not so coincidentally tugging the material of his trousers tighter over his crotch, the fabric dragging roughly just a little over his straining cock, and Jaskier whimpers outright at how fucking good even that feels in his wound up state, a breathy punched out moan that echoes in the hush of the room. </p><p>He heaves for breath as Geralt stands up properly, towering over where he still sits exactly where Geralt put him, and that thought winds him up even further. He thinks wildly that his hands must be shaking, but he’s too well nestled in the new cloak to even begin finding them. Even a blind man would be able to tell that Jaskier is aroused, let alone one with Witcher senses, and Geralt is doing this deliberately, he must be.</p><p>He wants to spread his legs wider, wants Geralt to rip these damned furs off and fuck into him right here on the table, wants to feel something other than the pull of fabric on his cock, perilously close to begging outright. </p><p>Geralt stands between his parted thighs, and looks down at his handiwork consideringly, Jaskier biting his lip and about two seconds from shaking to pieces right here in the middle of this dingy shop.</p><p>His eyes drop on where the collar of the cloak has come loose around his neck, exposing the flushed expanse of his neck and the bare chest where his chemise drapes artfully. Geralt trails his fingers slowly over the edge of the fur, grazing the hard peak of his nipple accidentally. He can’t help it, his hips buck into the sensation before he can stop himself, and he squeezes his eyes tightly shut to try and regain some self-control.  </p><p>Geralt fastens his cloak back up with a thoughtful air as he quivers, mouth dry and beyond ready to just bend over the table and be fucked into oblivion.</p><p>‘Perfect.’ Geralt murmurs, voice rasping and deep.</p><p>He pulls Jaskier to standing, and then they are almost chest to chest, and Geralt is glancing at his bitten-red lips, as though they might kiss at any moment, but he just smiles instead, the bastard, and wraps an arm around his back, leading him on shaky legs over to the corner where the shopkeeper is studiously looking at her sewing, her own cheeks pink.</p><p>Jaskier hardly hears a word, only voicing a garbled protest when Geralt says he’ll pay for everything. Geralt just hushes him, and that massive hand strokes his back soothingly as he carries on bartering, almost absentmindedly.</p><p>He hands over the coin, and then a rather ruffled feeling Jaskier is tucked under his arm and back on the streets of the town before he knows it, still half hard and aching. </p><p>He tries to think, as Geralt leads them back to Roach, blinking away the miasma of foggy lust that seeps into every thought, attempting to ignore the way Geralt steers him gently with one hand still tracing maddening patterns over his back.</p><p>Geralt took him to get warmer clothes, ostensibly for Kaer Morhen, but paid for them all himself. He dressed him like a doll, in an outfit Geralt chose himself, and Jaskier blushes to even think it. He knelt and removed Jaskier’s <em>boots</em> himself, and then proceeded to tease him into a squirming wreck right there in plain sight. Even now, he keeps fussing, lifting Jaskier onto Roach himself instead of letting him climb in the saddle on his own. It feels bizarrely like being courted, and his stomach swoops as he keeps returning to that quiet little thought over and over.</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>Naively, Jaskier underestimates just how hard the trek up to Kaer Morhen would be. Sure, Geralt had said it would be tough, but then he had a tendency towards worrying that was rather sweet, when it came down to it. His solicitous behaviour had continued, but there’d been no teasing or continuation of what had happened down in the town. For the most part Jaskier didn’t mind because he was absolutely exhausted by the end of the first day, and fiercely glad for his new clothes. It was bitterly cold, and the path was a tricky one, full of twists and turns, and more than a few terrifying ledges where the trail narrowed, rather closer to a steep drop than he would have liked.</p><p>Geralt had explained that there were a few waystations on the way up for them to stop and rest in, but he’d fallen asleep that first night as soon as he climbed into his bedroll, too tired out to even look around properly.</p><p>The late afternoon sun is setting behind the mountains when they reach the next stop, a little hut tucked just off the edge of the trail.<br/>
It’s rather warmer than he expected, but still cold enough that he can see his own breath. There’s wood in a rusty looking grate, so he gets the fire going while Geralt settles Roach in for the night.</p><p>He sits down for just a minute, and then the door opens and it’s full dark outside, and he must have dozed off. Geralt enters and pads over quietly, passing him the bag of provisions to raid. He tucks in and eats his dinner in quick little bites, beyond ready to climb into his bedroll and sleep again.</p><p>Geralt stops him as he makes his way to the pile of blankets, unpinning his cloak and spreading it over the floor so it is wide enough to cover them both. Geralt means to sleep next to him then, and the thought is enough to stir his cock to wakefulness, if nothing else.</p><p>He lies down, heart racing, and listens to Geralt put a few more logs on the fire, before shucking off his breastplate and climbing into the bedrolls beside him. He shivers a little, and then Geralt is wrapping an arm around him, pressing the firm expanse of his chest against Jaskier’s back, and pulling him closer. Sharing body heat, Jaskier thinks firmly, that thin layer of plausible deniability somehow more exciting, and he feels bolder with it.</p><p>He nestles back into Geralt’s warmth, and it feels so good he lets a little stifled moan slip out. Geralt’s hand ends up resting on his stomach, and he splays his fingers wide to gentle Jaskier’s not so innocent wriggling backwards. Jaskier shuffles a little more, and then his ass is flush with Geralt’s cock, obviously hard even through his layers. He breathes quietly, eyes staring at the dark wall unseeing, wondering what might happen if he just shifts a little more. </p><p>Geralt pulls him even closer, hand slipping down slightly to rest dangerously slow on his stomach, a hairs breadth from his own cock, and the thrill of this game fizzes in his blood and sends his head spinning.</p><p>He leans backwards slightly, exposing the line of his throat, and then he can feel Geralt’s breath hot and rasping against his neck, almost a kiss all by itself.</p><p>He squirms again, pretending to be uncomfortable, grinding backwards just a little into Geralt’s cock. </p><p>Geralt <em>growls</em> in his ear, and Jaskier almost giggles, falling asleep to Geralt’s mouth, open and hot, against his neck, in an undeniable kiss.   </p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>Kaer Morhen will be visible around the next corner, and he slows Roach to a stop, sliding off and opening his arms for Jaskier to dismount.<br/>
He does, if a little uncertainly, and then Geralt leads him around the thicket of trees and watches as Jaskier’s mouth drops open.</p><p>‘Geralt, it’s beautiful.’ He says, eyes wide, head turning as he tries to drink everything in at once, the sunlight glinting off the roofs of the keep, the snow topped forest in the valley below, the still visible grandeur of the ruins.</p><p>It’s nice to hear, some part of him pleased that something so important to him has Jaskier’s approval, but then he never really doubted it, not with the way the bard had leapt at the invitation.  </p><p>‘Before we get there. I just wanted to say…’ He summons all his courage, and one glance at Jaskier’s face, marvelling at his home, steels his nerve entirely.</p><p>‘I brought you here because I wanted to introduce you to my brothers. As…’ He trails off, blowing out a breath, and then clenches his fists, and it’s the bravest thing he’s ever done. </p><p>‘As mine.’</p><p>Jaskier stands stock still, now ignoring the view entirely, heart racing audibly in Geralt’s ears. </p><p>‘I know I’m a monster. But you’ve never treated me as anything less than a man.’</p><p>Jaskier’s expression flickers through outrage and sadness and hope too quickly to catch. His scent shifts wildly on the breeze, and Geralt steps closer, filling his lungs with pine and salt and sunlight.</p><p>He reaches for Jaskier’s hand, and cradles it in his own, gently letting his thumb trace the pale blue veins at his wrist.</p><p>Jaskier gasps quietly, mouth pouting prettily into a little ‘o’, blush forming on his cheeks, and pupils blown wide with lust. </p><p>He can’t stand it any longer, he can’t let this wanting simmer in his chest even as long as it would take to reach the keep, he has to kiss Jaskier, this instant. In the last second before their lips meet, he marvels at the strangeness of it at all, succumbing to the tides of feeling that he has witnessed swallow humans whole time and time again, and thought himself above it. Then their lips meet and the world fades away around him, the beauty of Kaer Morhen and the mountains in the sunset  nothing compared to the feel of Jaskier’s mouth opening up to his, the soft wet little brushes of his tongue, how easily he surrenders and just melts into his arms, the indescribable heat of his lithe body, how his honey slick scent drips wet and sweet in the back of his throat.</p><p>Jaskier moans, and his hands scrabble against Geralt’s armour, arching his back to press himself closer, as close as he can possibly get while fully dressed.</p><p>Geralt rips the fur from his back and drops it on the ground, too feverish with want to care where it falls. He walks them backwards until Jaskier is pushed against the trunk of the tree and nips at the exposed skin of his long neck, burying his nose in warm heat until his scent fills all the world.</p><p>He lets his hands wander as Jaskier’s hips roll beneath him, ducking under his chemise to pluck at his pebbled nipples, enjoying every moan that escapes him, every catch in his breath as he lets the tree take his weight and splays himself out like a feast for Geralt to devour. </p><p>He lets his knuckles dip low enough to graze the edge of his cock, hard and trapped in his tight breeches, and Jaskier <em>shudders</em>, thrusting wantonly into the sensation. It’s so beautiful to watch; the experienced lover completely undone by the slightest touch of his hand, and he lets his thumb press into the head of his cock, smearing the wetness into the fabric, and gods he can almost feel it, slippery and hot even through the barrier of Jaskier’s trousers. Jaskier <em>wails</em>, and he hopes his brothers are inside the keep at this point, but he is past caring.</p><p>He teases his fingers along Jaskier’s waistband and slips his hands under, down to that pert ass that he’s dreamt about, kissing him deeply and languid, letting Jaskier try and get as much friction as he can from where his cock is now rutting wantonly against Geralt’s thigh. He grabs as much plush buttock as he can in each hand and then lifts gently, just enough to spread his cheeks open a little. Jaskier’s hips twist madly and his head lolls back entirely, hanging between riding Geralt’s thigh and arching into the feeling of a thick gloved finger teasing at his rim.</p><p>His nerves are strung tight with impatience, and he growls deep in his chest, sinking his teeth into Jaskier’s throat and leaving a messy trail of spit slick up to the delicate lobe of his ear, tugging at it and enjoying the way Jaskier’s keens heighten in pitch.  </p><p>Jaskier whines and writhes beneath him, scrambling uselessly at the buckles of Geralt’s pauldrons, lashes wet with frustrated tears. </p><p>‘Hush, don’t cry pretty one.’ He tips Jaskier’s head up to meet his and kisses him once, twice more. ‘I didn’t realise you needed it so badly.’ He murmurs, and Jaskier bites his lip, legs trembling beneath him. He looks almost as desperate as Geralt feels, and he can’t wait either.</p><p>He wanted to spoil Jaskier rotten and make love to him at Kaer Morhen, in his own room, as romantically as the bard deserves, but he can’t expect his brothers to behave themselves and make a good first impression on Jaskier if Geralt shows up for winter with a fucking erection, they’ll laugh him out of the keep.</p><p>And it’s so fucking hot how much Jaskier wants him, lust-drunk and pleading for it. He turns to grab the oil from his pack quickly, and then crowds him back up against the tree trunk.</p><p>He shoves Jaskier’s trousers down and his cock bounces with a wet slap, and Jaskier turns red as Geralt stares at him, precum dripping steadily from the tip, wanting to taste him, to do everything at once, but the need to be buried inside tight wet heat is too intense, and he flips him around swiftly.</p><p>He doesn’t even bother taking his gloves off, pouring oil directly onto the leather, and then pressing a finger finally inside him, as Jaskier swears and curses, breath misting in the frozen air.</p><p>He takes his time preparing Jaskier, taking too much pleasure in the babbled pleas, how he relaxes into the pressure, chest heaving for air, whining and moaning loud enough for his brothers to hear, even at this distance. He could spend hours on this alone, but Jaskier is impatient, eager and wound up from the very first moment Geralt decided to tease him in the cloth-merchants.</p><p>When he’s finally satisfied that Jaskier is open enough for his cock, he takes a moment to admire the picture he makes, leaning his arms against the tree, forehead down, bent over with his trousers barely below his ass, slick with oil and ready to be fucked. His cock is dripping wet, messy with slick and precum, and Geralt has never seen anything more beautiful.</p><p>He turns Jaskier around to face him, keen to watch his expression as he falls apart. He only bothers undoing his laces at the front of his trousers, drawing out his cock and aching at the relief. Then Jaskier is in his arms, and he lifts him up, easy as anything, and lowers him slowly onto his cock. </p><p>‘F-fuck.’ Jaskier gulps, and clutches Geralt tighter, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and holding on.</p><p>It feels fucking divine, and Jaskier is blinking tears from his eyes, jerking in his grip as he tries to take more as quickly as he can, but Geralt is implacable. He fucks in one tiny inch, and then back, over and over, slowly as he can. Jaskier whispers pleas in his ear, but Geralt just works his way in steadily and methodically, sweat dripping down his back as he uses all his willpower not to just throw him onto the ground and fuck him as roughly as he keeps begging for.</p><p>Finally, Jaskier sinks down as deep as he can, and Geralt places a hand on his ass to keep him still. He tries to bounce anyway, but Geralt just kisses him, slow and tender, and Jaskier calms enough to let him grind a little in and out, tiny little movements that let him enjoy the hot clench of Jaskier’s hole.</p><p>He raises his thigh and lifts Jaskier even higher, shifting the angle slightly, and Jaskier <em>wails</em>, cock throbbing wetly where it’s trapped against Geralt’s stomach. He stands still, unmoving, and Jaskier slaps a petulant hand against his shoulder.</p><p>‘For fuck’s sake Geralt, fuck me.’ He snaps, and Geralt just raises an eyebrow. </p><p>‘You can’t wait a little longer?’ He says mildly, hoping his desperation isn’t visible on his face.</p><p>Jaskier lifts his hands from Geralt’s shoulders, and braces against the tree, searching for leverage, and then manages to drag himself up and down Geralt’s cock a few inches, thighs straining with the effort of heaving himself up and then crying out as he drops himself back down, angle hitting his prostrate. </p><p>They’re pressed together too tightly for Jaskier to take himself in hand, but Geralt can hear his heart racing, the tang of salt in the air as he approaches his climax. He holds still, clenching his teeth and fighting off the urge to take his own pleasure. Jaskier is flush with sweat, moaning sweetly as Geralt makes him ride his cock, absolutely fucking gorgeous, the steady rolls of his lithe hips giving way to uncontrolled little bounces, driving Geralt mad until his control snaps entirely.</p><p>He pins him against the tree, kissing him furiously, finally slamming into him as deep as he can, over and over, as Jaskier’s head lolls and he is reduced to stuttered little moans of pleasure, drowning out Geralt’s own groans as he fucks into the hilt, faster and faster, the sloppy noises of the oil squelching <em>filthy</em> in his ears, the keening whine trapped behind his own teeth, and then salt scent fills the air, and Jaskier’s cock drips against his stomach, a sudden burst of thick wet cum shockingly hot in the frigid air, as Jaskier thrashes and writhes, speared open and coming on his cock alone, mouth open in one soundless scream of pleasure. The tight clench of pressure around his cock is enough to send Geralt over the edge as well, and he slams in once, twice, three times more before coming himself, fucking his cum as deep into Jaskier’s pretty little hole as he can.</p><p>They pant for breath, and then Geralt has to kiss him again, enjoying the spiralling lust in his stomach, the way Jaskier’s legs are shaking, the dazed cum-drunk look on his face. </p><p>Jaskier opens up to him beautifully and sweetly, and Geralt is looking forward to this winter like never before.</p><p>He holds Jaskier close, and then is surprised by a sudden smack to his arm.</p><p>Jaskier looks shocked, but he can barely hide his grin.</p><p>‘Geralt,’ he hisses, ‘Please tell me I don’t have to be introduced to your brothers whilst still <em>dripping with your cum!</em>’</p><p> </p><p>...</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>a quick and dirty little PWP posted for the LOVELY POSSUM!<br/>inspired by their amazing art which i will link in a moment but it's nearly midnight on NYE, brb x  </p><p> </p><p>  <a href="https://twitter.com/ThirstyOpossum/status/1333816618917502979?s=20/">HERE IS THE GLORIOUS IMAGE!</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>